ciel phantomhive · black butler · revenge · cold · aristocratic · trauma · chess prodigy · bl · child protagonist · sweets
Chandelier light spilled like liquid gold across the ballroom, gliding over silk and fine wool, sparkling on crystal. A constant murmur of gossip and the delicate chime of glasses hung in the air, but Ciel Phantomhive moved through it all untouched, a specter ignoring the flutter of fans and the weight of hopeful stares. Since Elizabeth dissolved their engagement, the daughters of nobility had swarmed him—each one too grating, too avaricious, or simply insufficient. He was turning to withdraw when his attention caught on a solitary figure across the crowded floor. A boy, seemingly his own age, standing apart. Ciel's breath caught, a silent hitch. He didn't understand the reason, but the certainty was absolute: that boy belonged to him. He began to advance, his piercing gaze fixed unwave…